


Learn To Love Again

by Creej



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, references to past rape, references to past suicidal ideation, references to present suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creej/pseuds/Creej
Summary: A past relationship leaves Peter cynical and closed off. Can Neal convince him to open up to love again?





	Learn To Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Love Again by Pentatonix

Peter Burke stifled a groan when Neal Caffrey slid into the seat across from him - just as he had almost every day for the last two months. He sighed, gathering the various files and folders of his latest case and stowing them in the briefcase at his feet.

"Why Agent Burke, if I didn't know better I'd think you weren't happy to see me," Neal said with a wide smile.

"Not looking forward to spending the rest of my lunch trying to convince you that I don't believe you," Peter said.

"You just don't want to accept any evidence that doesn't fit your worldview," Neal said. "Sloppy for an investigator."

"I have yet to see any that doesn't fit my worldview," Peter said. He sat back, studying the man before him. "Of everyone who's even glanced over here, they've looked at you," he said.

"What about before I got here?" Neal asked.

"No one looked," Peter said. "I've been coming to this cafe almost every day for over two years. Not one server recognizes me. You, on the other hand, they knew your name and usual order after a week."

"I think you're exaggerating," Neal said.

As if to prove Peter correct, a server came over with Neal's usual sandwich and glass of wine. "Here you go, Mr. Caffrey," she said, barely giving Peter a glance as she left.

"I rest my case," Peter said. He stood, dropping a minimal tip on the table and retrieved his briefcase. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Neal sighed, silently cursing the server as he pulled out his phone. "Tell me you have something Moz," he said when his friend answered.

"Still no luck?" Moz asked. When Neal declined to answer, he went on, "From what I've been able to gather, his conviction goes back to his sophomore year in college. From what little information I have, he was the subject of some rather vicious rumors - which I refuse to repeat - rumors that couldn't be proven or disproven. Naturally, this and the fact he was so much younger than his classmates took its toll."

"Any way to find out who started it?" Neal asked.

"I have a few avenues of investigation open," Moz said. "I'll keep you updated."

After he hung up, Neal picked at his sandwich, mulling over what he knew of Peter Burke. In many ways, his and Peter's lives had many parallels - both graduated college when most graduated high school, both were brilliant - their intelligence off the charts. Peter had the highest closure rate in the Bureau, regardless of division, at ninety seven percent, Neal was independently wealthy - his net worth more than some small countries - at twenty five from his success at playing the market.

He'd first seen Peter when one of the brokers at his firm had been suspected of insider trading and he'd been so taken with the agent that he'd asked Moz to dig up everything he could. He hadn't been the only one in the office who thought Peter was gorgeous - his assistant, Melissa hadn't been able to take her eyes off him.

Neal had found out fairly early that Peter was convinced he was no one's idea of a romantic partner, that he was plain to the point of invisibility - was still convinced despite Neal's efforts to change his mind. After two months, Neal was considering more drastic measures but wasn't sure he wouldn't be arrested for violating some obscure law.

He sat back with a sigh. "Who was it Peter?' he asked himself. He hoped Moz could find whoever it was so they could pay for what they'd done. He wasn't sure how but between himself and Moz, they could do some damage. He checked his watch - he had to get back to the office himself. He had a few client meetings that afternoon.

 

"Join me for drinks this weekend," Neal said, sitting across from Peter. He'd given his idea on how to convince the other man of his attractiveness a lot of thought over the last week and thought it would work.

"Why?"

"I want to test a theory," Neal said. "The theory that I'm not the only one who finds you attractive and interesting."

"And that's a situation that's _not_ ripe for a set up," Peter said dryly.

Neal huffed out a breath. "Fine. You pick the time, you pick the place," he said. "You don't even have to tell me where until right before. That way, no chance of a set up."

Peter considered the proposition for a few moments as he studied the other man. He thought it was a bad idea but maybe it would convince Neal he was wrong. "All right," he said. "I'll let you know."

"So, what's the case?" Neal asked, indicating the file Peter had.

"Money laundering with a side of embezzlement."

"Figure it out yet?"

"I'm close," Peter said. "I have it narrowed down to a few people." He pushed the file aside, more interested in Neal's motives than who was skimming money. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why someone like Neal would be interested in him. Neal was gorgeous, rich, could have anyone he wanted with just a look. But for some reason he'd set his sights on him - a nobody FBI agent. Peter knew he was brilliant but past experience had taught him that people preferred looks over intelligence. Past experience had also taught him that if someone showed an interest in him it was because they wanted something. When they got it, they dropped him like a bad habit. The question was, what did Neal want? "What do you want, Mr. Caffrey?" he asked.

"For us to go out fro drinks," Neal said.

"No, what do you want from _me_?"

"Your company," Neal said.

Peter let out an irritated sigh. "I'm not stupid," he said. "And I don't like being played."

"I'm not playing you Peter," Neal said. "I'd like us to go out, have a few drinks and enjoy each others company. That's it. Do you always assume someone has an ulterior motive for wanting your company?"

"They usually do," Peter said.

"I don't," Neal said.

"What makes you different than everybody else?"

"I'm a firm believer in nothing ventured, nothing gained," Neal said. "Or, to be more blunt, why the hell not? Neither of us has anything to lose and potentially a lot to gain."

"I'm sure you could 'gain' what you want with someone more suitable than I am," Peter said. "Someone more fitting your image. Aren't you afraid of the ridicule you'll be subjected to if you're seen with me?"

"I've been seen with you almost every day for more than two months," Neal said. "No ridicule."

"This isn't exactly a social setting," Peter said.

"So, we go for drinks and see what happens," Neal said.

"I'm pretty sure I know what will happen," Peter said. "I'll go out to get some air, make or take a call and you'll have company inside sixty seconds."

"You willing to bet on that?" Neal asked a little challengingly.

"It's not sporting to bet on a sure thing," Peter said.

"Humor me."

"Okay, fine," Peter said. "Fifty bucks says I'm right."

"And if I'm right, fifty bucks...and a kiss," Neal said. "A real kiss, not some peck on the cheek."

"And how do you know I'm into men?" Peter asked.

"I didn't until just now," Neal said, mouth quirked in a somewhat impish smile. "So, we're agreed?"

"I'm right, I get the fifty," Peter said. "You're right, the fifty...and a kiss."

"Should we shake on it?"

"I doubt you're the type to welsh on a bet," Peter said.

 

Moz was waiting when Neal got home and he spent a few minutes pouring them each a glass of wine. "Whatcha got?"

"Not much more," Moz admitted. "But indications are that the person who dealt the near crippling blow to Peter's self esteem was a classmate, possibly a romantic partner. Male."

"No name yet?"

"Not yet," Moz said. "But at least the list is narrowed down somewhat."

"To around a couple hundred," Neal said a bit wryly.

"Better than several thousand," Moz pointed out. "I have a few people I can talk to so I'll be gone for a few weeks while I do."

"When are you leaving?"

"Next Monday." Moz sat back, sipping his wine. "So...Peter."

"He agreed to have drinks with me this weekend," Neal said. "Even though he's sure I have an ulterior motive behind my interest."

"You do in a manner of speaking," Moz said.

"He thinks I'm playing him," Neal clarified. "I'm not. You know that."

"I know," Moz said. "He's your intellectual equal, brilliant like yourself as well as gorgeous." He shrugged at Neal's raised brows. "I'm confident enough in my heterosexuality to admit that," he said. "But for reasons we don't yet know, he's convinced his physical appeal is nonexistent."

"That's partly why I asked him for drinks," Neal said. "To show him it's not."

 

Despite his misgivings, Peter texted Neal the time and place to meet, figuring he'd have a few drinks, maybe people watch then call it a night. He deliberately arrived early and settled in a booth with a clear view of the door, arbitrarily giving Neal fifteen minutes past the agreed upon time before he went home. Fiddling with his glass, he regarded the other patrons - a few office workers at a booth two down from him, a group of blue collar workers at the bar nursing beers and at an adjacent table a trio of women discussing office politics and - from what little else he heard - the lack of decent men. He saw one woman glance in his direction briefly before rejoining the conversation.

Right on time, Neal entered the bar, ordered his drink and smiled when his gaze rested on Peter. "I'm surprised you're not mobbed," he said, sliding into the seat across from Peter.

"I'm not," Peter said. "So, when will you concede the bet?"

"Come on, I just got here," Neal said. "Give it a little time."

Peter let out a breath and sat back. "You know this is complete nonsense," he said. "I don't know what you're trying to prove." Before Neal could respond, Peter's phone rang. Checking the number, he said, "I have to take this."

Neal was surprised when two of the women from the table next to him slid into the vacant seat. "Tell me he's coming back," one said.

 

Outside, Peter finished his call and was about to rejoin Neal when he saw his seat had been taken. Three women were with Neal, seeming to hang on every word he said. Something perversely polite in him decided not to interrupt and he turned to leave. It was nothing less then he expected. No doubt they'd been waiting for him to leave so they wouldn't be seen with him. Even though the cynic in him wasn't surprised, a deeper part was hurt to have concrete evidence of what he knew to be true. Unbidden, thoughts of college - and the three year nightmare he'd endured - surfaced. Sixteen years old, unsure of his place on campus and only one person seemed willing to treat him as an equal. And he had, becoming not only a friend but a lover as well. For four months Peter had been happy, confident then everything had gone to hell. He found himself ostracized, jeered at, the subject of vicious rumors he couldn't disprove, treated as if he were invisible or told he was ugly and worthless. Now, sitting behind the wheel of his car, he wished he'd taken that final way out when he'd had the chance. The only thing that had stopped him was his determination to become an FBI agent - a dream he'd had since he was eight years old, listening to stories of Eliot Ness and his legendary Untouchables.

On the way home, he stopped at a liquor store and bought three bottles of high end scotch - it was the weekend, he could afford it and he was in the mood to get completely wasted. Anything to forget the scene at the bar.

Once home, he slumped on the couch and twisted the cap off the first bottle. Foregoing a glass, he drank straight from the bottle, ignoring the burn as he swallowed, his thoughts going to darker and darker places, imagining how he'd wanted to end it while in college - in the messiest way possible right in the middle of the dorm room of the architect of his nightmare. By the time his thoughts came back to the present, he saw the first bottle empty and the second half gone. He briefly wondered if he was sober enough to handle his gun. Who'd miss him if he went through with it? He couldn't think of anyone who'd care except those in the office and the only reason they would was because their stats would drop and they'd have to find another dumping ground for the cases they didn't want to bother with. Four years in and he was still being treated like a probie. The brass was thrilled with his closure rate but the agents he worked with thought he was showboating, making them look stupid on purpose. As if he could help how his mind worked, that he could see patterns and connections other people missed.

With the honesty of the very drunk, he admitted to himself that it hurt more this time because he liked Neal, had hoped he was telling the truth, was starting to believe him when he said he found Peter interesting and attractive. His grip - on bottle number three - tightened as a wave of anger washed over him. Neal, the first and only one who'd gotten close since college, was no different than the others. Before he realized what he was doing, the bottle flew through the air to shatter against the wall, followed by the two empties. Some vague thought of cleaning up the mess had him stumbling to the kitchen for a broom. He didn't see the chair he tripped over and, a moment later, saw nothing as the world went black.

 

Neal woke to an annoying buzz which he quickly identified as his phone. Fumbling it off the nightstand, he swiped the answer button. "What?"

"Neal. Wake up."

"Moz?"

"Peter's in the hospital."

Immediately awake, Neal sat up. "What? What happened?"

"A neighbor called paramedics after hearing what she termed 'a ruckus.' They found him on the floor bleeding from a head wound and lacerations on his hands and face. And from the smell of alcohol...Neal, his blood alcohol is point three seven."

"Jesus," Neal breathed, getting up and starting to dress. "What hospital?"

"Lennox Hill, room four ten."

"Call if you hear anything else," Neal said then added, "Find the son of a bitch who caused this, Moz."

 

He made it to the hospital in record time and quickly found Peter's room. His heart clenched, seeing Peter lying in the bed, IVs trailing from his arm, heart monitor beeping steadily and bandages faintly stained with blood wrapped around his head and hands. On his face were shallow cuts held closed with butterfly bandages. But it wasn't Peter's physical state that had caused Neal's response, it was the expression of pain and despair Peter wore. Almost hesitantly, he sank into the bedside chair and took Peter's hand. "Shit, Peter," he whispered. "Why?"

He heard the faint squeak of rubber soled shoes then a hand gently touched his shoulder. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," a nurse said quietly.

"Sorry," Neal said, standing. "I just heard and had to see for myself how he was doing."

"You're a friend?" The nurse's brows rose, noticing Neal still had hold of Peter's hand. "Or perhaps more?"

"It's...complicated," Neal said.

The nurse gestured to the door. "Visiting hours start at nine," she said.

"He'll be okay?" Neal asked as they left.

"Your friend seems to be in excellent health so no need to think he won't be," the nurse said. She studied him a moment. "Any idea why he tried to drink himself into a coma?"

"I have no idea," Neal said with a sigh. He gave her a nod. "Thank you," he said. "I'll be back later.

 

Knowing he'd be getting no more sleep, Neal found an all night diner and settled in with a cup of coffee, his mind on Peter. The nurse's question was a good one - why _had_ Peter tried to drink himself into a coma? Neal had gotten no indication of anything wrong when Peter had stepped out to take his call. "Shit," he sighed, scrubbing his face. Peter had stepped out and he'd been ambush interrogated by those three women. Peter had no doubt seen them and come to the conclusion that they'd been waiting for him to leave. He wished Peter could have heard them - one had been intensely interested in what Peter did, if he was taken and had jokingly contemplated committing a white collar crime on the off chance Peter would catch the case. All three had been both pleased and surprised that neither he nor Peter was taken. By the time they finished, Peter was long gone - getting completely wasted, he now knew.

 

Nine o'clock came and Neal was once more ensconced in the bedside chair in Peter's room, waiting for him to wake up. A few minutes later, he did.

Sensing a presence, Peter looked to the side, seeing Neal and let out a breath. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice rough.

"I'm worried about you," Neal said. "What happened Peter?"

"You know damn well what happened," Peter said, too tired to feel the anger he'd felt the night before.

"It wasn't what it looked like," Neal said.

"So you _didn't_ have three women looking at you like you were the center of the universe?" Peter tried for sarcasm but couldn't quite manage it.

"They practically interrogated me," Neal said. "About you, about me, about _us_. The first thing they asked was when you were coming back. When you didn't, I said you had a hot lead on a case you're working. Couldn't wait." He reached for his wallet and withdrew a slip of paper. "They asked me to give you that," he said, laying it on Peter's lap.

"What is it?"

"Their phone numbers."

"That's new," Peter said, making no move to pick it up.

"What? Women giving you their phone numbers?"

"No one's used that particular tactic before," Peter said.

"Oh, for the love of God, Peter," Neal said aggravated. "Not everyone had an ulterior motive and I'd appreciate it if you didn't assume I do. Me and at least three very attractive women think you're gorgeous and you think it's a bunch of bullshit."

"Past experience..." Peter started.

"Past experience be damned," Neal interrupted, glowering. "Whoever did this to you is a total prick and a fucking bastard but that doesn't make them right."

"Wasn't just him," Peter said wearily.

"Yeah, well someone started it and got you so convinced that you can't let yourself believe anything different," Neal said.

Peter sighed. "What do you want? What do you _really_ want?"

Neal practically climbed onto the bed as he got into Peter's space. "You want to know what I want?" he asked, voice low and intense. "I want you naked on my bed while I explore every inch of your gorgeous body, I want to feel you, smell you, taste you, have you inside me." He paused to rake his gaze down Peter's body. "And right now I want to swallow you whole and make you come so hard you forget your own name." He took Peter's hand and placed it on his groin. "If I wasn't attracted to you then explain this," he said, knowing Peter could feel his arousal, wanting him to feel it.

Unconsciously, Peter began rubbing slightly and heard Neal's breath hitch. Embarrassed, he pulled his hand back with a mumbled apology.

Neal leaned over to whisper in his ear, "If you think I minded, you're mistaken." He sat back in the chair. "But now is not the time or place," he said. "That will come soon enough."

"You sound sure," Peter said.

"I've been accused of having an overabundance of confidence on occasion," Neal said. "Most of the time I've been right."

"Most of the time," Peter repeated.

"I'd be willing to bet on it," Neal said.

"No more bets," Peter said. "The last time didn't turn out so well."

"So you'll give me this one?"

"I can't forfeit a bet I didn't make," Peter said.

"So, any idea when they'll cut you loose?" Neal asked, leaning back in the chair.

"Doctors want to run a few tests," Peter said. "But they said probably tomorrow."

 

Neal was at the hospital bright and early the day Peter was discharged and, despite Peter's protests, insisted on driving him home. Peter was surprised when Neal led him to a very practical blue, two door Honda Civic. He'd expected something sporty, imported and slightly cramped. "Not what you expected, is it?" Neal asked with a slight smirk.

"Actually, no," Peter admitted.

 

It was a short drive to Peter's apartment and when Peter turned to thank him for the ride, he was startled when Neal pushed the door closed and backed him against the wall.

"Wha...?"

Neal stopped the question by taking him by the mouth. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around the slim waist and felt Neal press closer, his arousal obvious.

Reluctantly, Peter pulled back. "Are you sure?" he asked, searching Neal's face.

Neal insinuated a hand between them and cupped him through his jeans. "Very sure," he said. "I've been sure for weeks." He stepped back, taking Peter's hand and led him back to the bedroom.

Almost before he realized it, Neal had them both stripped and he was laid out on the bed with Neal hovering over him. "Gorgeous," he whispered, running his hand lightly over Peter's chest. Peter gasped softly when Neal's fingers brushed over his nipples. Neal seemed to take note as his hands drifted lower and one wrapped around his cock and slowly stroked. With a soft groan, Neal folded himself over and took Peter to the root.

Peter's hands fisted in the covers as the warmth of Neal's mouth enveloped him, his caught breath coming out in a low moan. Much sooner than he expected - or wanted - he felt himself of the edge but Neal kept him there for long minutes before pushing him over. He reflexively opened his mouth when Neal's lips met his and he felt the beginnings of renewed arousal when he tasted himself on Neal's tongue.

Neal pulled back and rested his forehead against Peter's. "Wow," he breathed. "You taste...fantastic. " He took a deep breath. "Tell me you have...I want to feel you."

"It's...been awhile, so..."

Neal groaned softly and sat back. "Damn, I really wanted to."

"But..." Peter rolled him over. "I can return the favor."

Before Neal could respond, Peter dived down, swallowing him, riding him when Neal arched up with a gasp. Unbidden, Neal's hands fisted in Peter's hair as he tried to remember how to breathe. The brief surge of jealousy he felt at the thought of Peter doing this for someone else caught him by surprise. Then all thought stopped as his climax ripped through him. Slowly, he unlocked his fingers and Peter moved up, looking at him somewhat uncertainly. "That was..." Neal started then shook his head. "I have no idea how to describe that. It was...mind blowing." He drew Peter's head down, kissing him softly before stifling a yawn. "Sorry, fantastic sex always makes me sleepy," he said, mouth quirked in a smile. He pushed Peter onto his back and burrowed into his side, laying his head on Peter's shoulder.

 

A few weeks later, Neal found Moz waiting for him when he got home. "Got something?" he asked, pouring them each a glass of wine.

"I do," Moz said, accepting a glass before making himself comfortable.

"So, tell me a story," Neal said.

"No story," Moz said. "Or rather, I'll just stick to the pertinent facts. I know who's behind Peter's self esteem problem. The one who started and spread those vicious rumors I told you about and believe it or not, that wasn't the worst he's done."

"Who is it, Moz?"

"Name's Robert Calvin," Moz said then paused. "There's one more thing. He works for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Moz said. "I tracked his employment through several small brokerages until he landed at yours about two years ago."

"I know him," Neal said. "I know the son of a bitch who did this..." His gaze was sharp when it met Moz's. "You said it wasn't the worst," he said. "What else?"

"He was a suspect in several beatings and rapes," Moz said. "I got a glimpse of the police reports - all named him as the assailant. Rape kits in evidence but not tested."

"Why not?"

"Police chief had to let the cases go cold," Moz said. "Calvin was blackmailing him."

Neal nodded as he thought over the information. "What do we do?"

"Not we," Moz said. "Me. I don't want you anywhere near this. I have my own ideas about what should be done."

"But..."

"No," Moz said firmly. "You know I sometimes - well more than sometimes - I step over the line of legality. Think of it as plausible deniability."

Neal was about to protest again but Moz was right - he couldn't know what his friend was going to do. "All right," he said. "I'll trust you on this."

Moz gave him a nod. "So, how is Peter? Have things...progressed by any chance?" At Neal's somewhat shy smile he said, "Ah. And how is it?"

"So far it's been very good," Neal said. "We haven't taken the final step yet though. I don't want to make him feel rushed." He sipped his wine, regarding the other man. "You're...okay with...?"

"Neal, you're two grown men," Moz said, understanding. "You're my friend and I want you to be happy - even if it's with someone who works for The Man." He shook his head. "No, to be honest, I like Peter - he's brilliant, he makes you happy and he's gorgeous - and what Calvin did to him is just wrong." He paused, frowning a little. "I was in his position when I was still in the orphanage and I never got the chance to get back at those who bullied me."

"So this is you getting back by proxy?"

"You could say that," Moz said. "Like I said, what Calvin did was just wrong."

"What else did you find?"

Moz sighed. "From a few of Peter's classmates I gathered it got so bad that Peter seriously contemplated...ending it."

"Did Peter know who was behind it?" Neal said evenly as he gripped his glass.

"He's too smart not to have figured it out," Moz said. "Even at sixteen, he was smarter than everyone on campus - including his instructors. I mean, he unraveled the Fenelli securities fraud case in less than a month. Something like this would have been glaringly obvious to him."

Again, Neal nodded. "All right, do what you think needs doing," he said. "As far as his continued employment at my firm...I'll have to think of a way to fire him that won't lead to the possibility of a lawsuit for wrongful termination."

"I know he's good at his job," Moz said. "You wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't."

"If I'd known what kind of person he is, I'd have shown him the door."

 

Over the next few weeks, Neal put his conversation with Moz in the back of his mind. He couldn't completely forget it since he saw Robert Calvin every workday. To keep himself from confronting the man about what he'd done - he trusted Moz to take care of any plans - he focused on Peter. His relationship with the agent was still moving slowly forward but Neal was willing to follow Peter's lead.

The first inkling Neal got that Calvin was having problems was when he began calling off to attend to "personal business" and though he was curious, he didn't ask Moz about what he might have done.

A week later, his assistant tapped on the door to his office before sticking her head in. "Sir, were you expecting a delivery?" she asked.

"No," Neal said, frowning slightly.

"A box just came for you," Melissa said. "Should I bring it in?" 

"If it's not too much trouble..."

A few minutes later, Melissa set a box - no return address or post office labels, just his name and the firm's address typed on a plain white label - on his desk. "This was couriered?" Neal asked, slicing through the tape that held the flaps closed. Inside were a number of manila envelopes, each bearing the name of an employee, also typed.

"It was on my desk when I got back from lunch," Melissa said.

Neal removed the envelope with his name, feeling the softness that indicated it was lined with bubble wrap and something hard inside. "If you'll distribute the rest..." he said. Once Melissa left with the remainder, Neal opened the package and withdrew a slim book - no title. Curious, he opened it to find a sheet of paper - with Moz's distinct handwriting.

_Neal, this is the result of my investigation into Mr. Calvin. Included are the police reports and photos in evidence (copies only) along with his other less than legal and downright shady activities during his college years. Also included are several eyewitness accounts of what he subjected your FBI agent to during that same time period as well as their recollection of those rumors we talked about. They're far from pretty._

_As far as my activities are concerned, Mr. Calvin is probably experiencing some difficulties concerning his finances - and that's all I'll say on the subject, so don't ask._

_Whether the information included in this volume is grounds for his termination, I would suggest consulting legal counsel though that may be a non issue once those kits are sent for testing. And last, be prepared for a visit from the white collar unit in the near future as there are indications that Mr. Calvin is receiving kickbacks from several companies. Moz._

The last line had Neal pulling Calvin's file and paging through it. He hadn't looked too closely before since the firm's clients had made no complaints - they were making money so his brokers were making money and, by extension, so was he. Always quick to find a pattern, Neal soon found that Calvin was pushing the stocks of three companies in particular, with a minimum investment of ten thousand dollars each. Closing the file, he realized he had grounds to fire the man should the allegations be proven. He picked up the book and leafed through it, his stomach turning when he came to the police evidence photos - about a dozen young women with bruised faces, black eyes and - in a couple cases - missing teeth. Next to each photo was the police report naming Calvin as the assailant and a notation indicating a rape kit had been logged into evidence. One photo in particular caught his eye and he shot out of his chair, entering the main office in time to see one of his brokers go after Calvin.

"You son of a bitch!"

Neal understood the anger - the photo that had caught his eye was of the broker's wife. "Mark!" With some effort, Mark turned to his boss. "I understand," Neal said. "Now, I want you to take the rest of the day - don't worry about your clients, I'll handle them. Clear your head. Go be with Katie."

"Mr. Caffrey..." It was Calvin. "He tried to assault me!"

Neal turned a cold eye on him. "From what I've discovered, that's the least of your worries, Mr. Calvin," he said.

"Excuse me sir," Melissa said in a low voice. "There's an Agent Burke here to see you."

Neal turned to see Peter regarding the scene with raised brows. "Agent Burke, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to speak to a Robert Calvin," Peter said. "We received a tip that he was receiving kickback for pushing particular stocks."

"And you'll require his records, I assume," Neal said.

"That would be helpful."

"Melissa, if you would..."

"He's gorgeous," Melissa mouthed on her way to his office and Neal's mouth quirked in agreement.

"And Mr. Calvin?"

"Peter..." Neal said quietly and tipped his head in Calvin's direction. He saw Peter freeze for a moment, obviously recognizing the man who'd put him through hell then his expression smoothed.

"You know?" Peter asked.

"I know who he was to you and what he did," Neal said softly. "I just found out he was my employee." He smiled faintly, a little worried. "You're not the only investigator I know," he said. "If I've overstepped..."

"No, no, it's fine," Peter said. "I know it wasn't out of maliciousness and I would have told you eventually." He straightened and went over to Calvin's desk. "Robert Calvin?"

"Who wants to know?" Calvin asked then looked up. A smirk curved his mouth as he recognized Peter. "Well, well, if it isn't Little Petey Burke. Surprised you're still around."

"Sorry to disappoint you Bobbsie," Peter said blandly.

Calvin rose, getting in Peter's face, surprise flickering across his expression when Peter didn't move. "Don't give me any lip Burke. I can still hurt you, put you in your place again."

"Are you threatening me Bobbsie?" Peter asked, feigning interest.

"I don't threaten. I promise," Calvin said. He came around the desk and pushed Peter back. "Now back off."

"No, don't think so," Peter said. "Not this time."

Calvin shoved him again then let out an "oof" of surprise when he found himself suddenly on his back. Climbing to his feet, he glared at Peter. "You want me to call the cops on your ass? Do it again."

"And who would they believe, Bobby? You or an FBI agent?" Peter asked. "Assault on a Federal officer is nothing to laugh at."

"You? FBI?" Calvin asked derisively. "Now get out of my way before I really hurt you." When Peter made no move, Calvin shoved him again and once more found himself on the floor, hands pinned behind his back.

"It must have really pissed you off when I came out at the top of the class in college, didn't it?" Peter said, speaking low in his ear. "Me, a kid four years younger, making you look stupid. You just couldn't handle it could you? So you set out to destroy me and you _failed_. Yeah, I was the campus pariah but I'm still standing. And I'm FBI now. Took top honors at the Academy with perfect firearms scores, aced the sims and set records on the Yellow Brick Road. All of which means I could kick your ass into next week if I wanted to. But I'm not like you so I can settle for putting your ass behind bars."

"Agent Burke, Mr. Calvin's files," Neal said. "I think you'll find them informative." He looked at Calvin. "If there's a pattern to your investment advice, he'll find it."

"There's no way you're Bureau," Calvin said when Peter let him up. "You're not that smart."

In response, Peter opened his jacket, showing the badge clipped to his belt. "Didn't get this out of a cereal box," he said mildly. "But, if you want, I can give you the number and extension of the ASAC, Reese Hughes." He leaned in a little and added, "And by the way, I have the highest closure rate Bureau wide at ninety seven percent. If there's evidence of you taking kickbacks, I _will_ find it and the case will be airtight."

"I believe I may have more information for you in my office, Agent Burke," Neal said, tilting his head in invitation. Once the door was closed, Neal dropped the file on his desk and backed Peter against it. "Do you have any idea how much it turned me on seeing you in action?" he asked but didn't give Peter the chance to respond before claiming his mouth.

Peter set him back a little. "Neal..."

"Yeah. Work. Official business," Neal said a little breathlessly. "Anyway, I _do_ have more information but it's not case related." He retrieved the book Moz had made up and handed it to him, nodding at him to look.

Peter opened it at random, his eyes widening a little when he saw one of the evidence photos. "Jesus," he breathed then looked at Neal. "He did this?"

"I suspect the kits will be on their way for testing soon," Neal said. He paused aa Peter paged through the others. "I know it's probably not likely but did you know any of them?"

"A couple, yeah," Peter said. "Kate Billings and Sandra Miller. They were in my accounting class."

"Kate's the wife of one of my brokers,' Neal said. "The one I sent home earlier."

Peter smiled a little. "I had something of a crush on her," he said. "Didn't have the balls to tell her though."

"So, how'd it feel, putting him down?" Neal asked, smiling a little impishly.

"Well..."

"Come on Peter, it had to feel good after what he did to you."

"To be honest, I've wanted to do that since I graduated from the Academy," Peter said. "He's still an arrogant son of a bitch." He handed the book back. "As enlightening as this is, I can't use it as evidence, no one can since I have the feeling the information was acquired unofficially. But if those kits are tested then they'll be more than enough."

"Will you charge him with assault?" Neal asked a little curiously.

"He'll have about a dozen assault charges," Peter said.

"I mean of a Federal officer."

"Seems a bit petty on my part if I do," Peter said. "And I don't want to come across that way."

Neal stepped closer, tugging on Peter's tie. "You don't strike me as being petty, Agent Burke," he said softly. "You strike me as smart, sexy, gorgeous as well as an incredible lover."

"Neal..."

"Damn it," Neal said taking a deep breath. "I know, I know. Work. Official business, yada, yada, yada. It's just...I find it very difficult to keep my hands off you."

Peter felt himself become aroused at the heat in Neal's eyes and just barely stopped himself from taking Neal right there in his office. "So...if you'll give me that file, I can get started."

"Dinner, tonight, my place," Neal said. "Then maybe..."

"Then maybe," Peter said, accepting the file.

 

Neal's apartment smelled of marinara, oregano and garlic when he answered the knock on the door to find Peter, dressed casually in jeans and a black button down open at the throat. "I find I'm hungry for something other than lasagna," he said, closing the door and pulling the other man in for a kiss.

"How much...?" Peter began before Neal cut him off.

"Relax, we have another half hour," Neal said a little breathlessly, pulling Peter over to the couch and tumbling him onto his back. "A lot we can do in half an hour." He grinned as he straddled Peter's hips and started unbuttoning his shirt. "As much as I like you in this shirt, I think I'd like you better without it on."

"What brought this on?" Peter asked as the shirt fell open.

"Just thinking about you putting Calvin down," Neal said. "Told you it turned me on." He ran his hands appreciatively over Peter's chest. "Graceful, effortless...almost poetry in motion." His smile widened, feeling Peter's response pressing against his ass. His smile then turned mischievous as he wiggled and Peter groaned.

Peter pulled him down and whispered in his ear. "If I did...everything I wanted...right now..." He took Neal's mouth in a deep kiss. "Dinner would burn..."

"Don't tease, Agent Burke," Neal said, writhing a little.

"Not teasing," Peter said. "Just...something to think about. Besides, it can wait."

"And if I don't want to?"

"Dinner," Peter said. A mischievous glint lit his eyes and he added, "I'll make it worth your while."

"Mmmm, I look forward to it," Neal said. He ran a hand over Peter's groin. "It involves this I hope."

"It's an integral part."

 

Neal got to see a whole new side to Peter during dinner - or maybe it was his mind being in the gutter. Every time Peter took a bite or a drink, all Neal could think of was Peter's mouth on him. He knew he was being teased when Peter slowly licked some stray sauce off his finger and saw the heat in his eyes. He nearly dropped his fork and upset his wineglass as he rounded the table and climbed into Peter's lap. "You...are in _so_ much trouble, Agent Burke," he said.

"I think I can handle it, Mr. Caffrey," Peter said before kissing him. Neal gasped when Peter suddenly stood, hands gripping his ass and carried him into the bedroom. "I believe you'll find something of interest in my back pocket," he said, falling with him onto the bed.

Neal reached in, taking the opportunity to grope, and pulled out...a condom and a small bottle of lube. "Peter?" he questioned. "Really?"

"Really," Peter said, unfastening Neal's jeans and stripping them off, followed by his own.

Neal soon got with the program and helped Peter off with the rest of his clothes before flipping him onto his back. "I want to ride you," he breathed. "...bare."

"Neal..." Peter said uncertainly.

"I want to feel you," Neal said. "Really feel you."

"Let me," Peter said, taking the bottle. Quickly coating his fingers, he gently breached Neal's entrance, carefully working him open.

"Enough," Neal said, positioning himself over Peter and slowly lowering himself, hissing a little from the stretch and slight burn. "Oh Jesus...Peter..."

"Too much?" Peter asked. He knew he was larger than average and worried he was hurting Neal.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Neal asked on a laugh. "You feel...fantastic."

Peter slowly began thrusting and Neal fell into sync with him easily, both moaning and breathless from the sensations.

"Peter...Peter, I...I can't..." Neal said gasping then stiffened as he climaxed which set off Peter. Neal collapsed onto Peter and kissed him almost desperately. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for trusting me. With everything."

Peter rolled them over, running a finger over Neal's lips. "You know the real reason I got so wasted that night? Wasted enough to land myself in the hospital?" Neal shook his head. "Because, even after what Bobby put me through, as much as that hurt...what I thought you'd done hurt so much more. It almost killed me to think you were like everyone else."

"I'd never hurt you like that Peter," Neal said, cupping his face. "And there's something you should know. Do you remember when you first investigated my firm?" Peter nodded. "I think I fell in love with you then. Fell in love with this kind, compassionate but no nonsense agent...who's also sexy as hell." He smiled, seeing the blush staining Peter's cheeks. "You believe me?"

"I'm...starting to," Peter said.

"Well, I'll just have to keep trying to convince you then," Neal said. His eyes widened and his breath caught when he felt Peter harden inside him. "I...I could get used to this," he said as Peter began thrusting.

This round was leisurely as opposed to the almost frantic coupling earlier, their hands roaming over sweat slick skin, mouths and tongues dueling slow and sensuous. With a soft grunt, each came then lay catching their breath.

"Stay with me," Neal said, cupping Peter's face.

Peter studied him a long moment, sensing Neal didn't mean just for the night. "You're sure?"

Neal nodded. "I want to go to sleep with you every night, wake up with you in the morning, come home to you...Say yes, Peter. Please." He smiled softly when Peter nodded. "Always knew you were a smart man, Agent Burke."

Peter laughed quietly, kissing him. "Thank you," he said, sobering a little. "For everything. I never thought you being such a pain in the ass would lead to this. But I'm glad you were, that it did."

Neal chuckled as Peter rolled to the side and pulled him close. "You like my ass," he said.

"Hmmm. Among other things," Peter said.

As they drifted to sleep, Peter thought that he could finally let go of his past because Neal...Neal was his future...and it looked very bright indeed.

 

THREE MONTHS LATER...

 

"Well, Bobby's pissed," Peter said, shedding the FBI agent when he came home.

"He thought he could beat the charges?" Neal asked, handing him a tumbler of scotch and joining him on the couch.

"Eleven counts of sexual battery, three counts of taking kickbacks and one count of assault on a Federal officer," Peter said. "By the way, the tip we got from your firm wasn't the only one. An accountant from one of the companies noticed an irregularity in the books - regular payments to an account that didn't belong to the company or any of its employees - and gave us a call."

"His sentencing?"

"Next week," Peter said. "Prosecutors are going for the maximum." He tugged Neal closer. "Thank your investigator friend for finding the rest of the assault victims. It was their testimony that really made the case."

"I'll let him know," Neal said, setting his glass aside and relieving Peter of his before pushing him onto his back. "But right now..." He saw the heat spark in Peter's eyes - heat he was sure was reflected in his - and felt the usual response.

"Dinner..."

"We'll order out," Neal said. "Right now, I'm hungry for something else."

"No complaints from me," Peter said before Neal put an end to all talking, sighing contentedly into Peter's mouth when he felt strong arms wrap around his waist.

It was _very_ late before they got to dinner.


End file.
